New Planets, New Races, Same Idiots
by Meyri-chan
Summary: In which the crew of the Enterprise discover yet another planet and meet a new, if unlikely, friend. An adventure containing all characters plus one and Kirk yet again demonstrates his lack of common sense. Spock however, compensates beautifully.
1. Chapter 1

Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship _Enterprise. _It's ongoing mission, to seek out new life, to explore strange new worlds...and to boldly go where no man has gone before...except for the countless other kinds of man that roam the entire universe and no doubt will either be delighted, irritated or just down right angry that you got there in the first place.

***

Chekov stumbled, giggling helplessly. Sulu rolled his eyes, propping his companion up as best he could.

"You really should lay off the vodka," he warned, feeling like a reprimanding parent, "one of these days your going to hurt yourself."

Chekov grinned the biggest, cutest grin he could, his large blue eyes twinkling in the holographic moonlight.

"I'm...Russian," he managed to say between hiccups, "I...built for this..."

He promptly proved himself wrong by throwing up all over the floor.

Sulu sighed,

"You and the rest of the world."

He dragged his friend off the newly built holo-deck with difficulty, making a beeline in the direction of sick bay.

***

On the bridge, Captain James T Kirk was staring into the blackness of space, clueless about where to head next. Behind him, the sharp-featured Spock was weighing up their options, logically and mathematically calculating the relevant probability factors regarding each course and it's consequencing events.

Kirk overheard him mutter,

"...with a sixty-six point four zero seven chance that we could possibly be eliminated..."

That didn't sound too good. Making a decision, Kirk rolled up his sleeves and rose from his chair. Looking out over the surrounding solar systems, he pointed confidently at the nearest star. He opened his mouth.

"You are decided then?" Spock interjected, looking up from his calculatory monitor. Kirk ignored him and began.

"Eeny-meeny-miny-mo..."

***

Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy was NOT happy.

"He drank _how much_?"

Sulu mumbled something unintelligible and shuffled his feet nervously, trying to avoid McCoy's intense glare of annoyance by occupying his mind with Chekov's limp hand hanging off the bed, failing miserably. He could feel McCoy's stare burning through his forehead like a lazer beam.

"He drank...enough." he replied, almost whispering.

"Enough! I'll say!" McCoy was ranting now, waving his arms like a windmill, "Enough to drop an elephant! Why the HELL did he even THINK about drinking that much?"

On the bed, Chekov rolled over, burying his face in the pillow, still chuckling.

"Well?!"

His eyes on Chekov and mouth twitching up a little, Sulu murmured,

"He's Russian. He's built for this..."

From the depths of the pillow came an muffled snort of laughter.

***

"That one."

"Your sure?"

"Absolutely."

Spock allowed the following silence extend to the point of awkwardness before breaking it.

"Even though, according to my instruments, that planet has a population of two point three million carnivorous quadrupeds?"

"Ah."

If Vulcans had the emotional capacity to roll their eyes, Spock would have done, but despite being half human, he had to be content with a sigh.

"Sir, may I suggest charting a course for _that_ one?" He pointed a pale finger at a small blue planet drifting at the edge of a nearby nebula, "I've run the relevant scans and--"

He was cut off by the arrival of Sulu, a rather ill looking Chekov and a red-faced McCoy. Spock raised a solitary eyebrow at them, allowing his deep gaze to follow them to their posts, aware of the discomfort he was causing them.

" -it appears to be best suited to our -_ahem_- current condition." he finished, noting McCoy's thunderous expression and Chekov's greenish complexion.

Kirk, unnerved by the rapidly decreasing climate of the room, managed a smile, clapping his hands together in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"That one it is then! Mr Sulu, head for the planet at the coordinates 35-82 and take us into orbit if you would be so kind."

"Yes sir." Sulu replied, still watching Chekov out of the corner of his eye. McCoy had refused to keep him in sick bay after giving him a quick injection, saying that his condition would clear up in minutes, but not before he'd given them the 'quit-worrying-get-the-hell-out-of-here-and-don't-let-me-catch-you-like-this-on-duty-again-do-you-here?' treatment. However, Sulu was still worried. Chekov didn't look right at all.

***

The blue planet was fairly nice Scotty had to admit. No land in sight, but pretty anyway. He wasn't too keen on water since the.._.incident_ of his first warp-speed transportation, but he couldn't deny it looked great from a porthole in a ship high up in orbit. It was a nice 'at-arms-length' kind of distance, that was totally agreeable in his opinion.

***

"Pretty isn't it?" Said a velvety voice by Spock's ear. The vulcan's mouth corners twitched slightly as he gazed through the viewing window in the empty mess hall at the planet below.

"A pleasure as always, Lieutenant Uhura." he replied softly without turning round.

"Oh come on," the voice chided soothingly, "you know what my first name is..."

Spock felt the hand glide down his spine, sending a shiver through his torso to the very tips of his pointed ears. A strange collection of feelings he had never felt before were beginning to stir somewhere deep inside him, like hot glowing embers. Feelings he couldn't quite place...his heart beat was pounding in his ears for some unknown reason and Uhura's hand was straying for a second time. Oh. Uhura smiled, satisfied as she heard the sharp intake of breath.

"Vulcan or no, I know 'turned-on' when I see it."

Spock realised for the first time that he was completely speechless.

***

Chekov looked weakly at the non-too pretty basin of the ships toilet. However, when your head is leaning over it, there really isn't much else to look at. After emptying his guts for the umpteenth time, he became aware of a loud hammering on the door,

"Hey Pavel, you in there? You ok?" Sulu sounded worried.

Chekov was cut short trying to reply as his stomach complained again and thrust his last meal up his throat. Coughing, shaking and wiping his mouth on a nearby towel, Chekov did his best to remain concious as he reached for the door button.

"Newver been better..." he managed to croak as he used the last of his energy to open the door. Sulu leapt through, just in time to catch his friend as he collapsed on the tiles.

"Gracious, you really don't look so good."

"Your obzerwational skeels know.. no boundz..."

"Shhh, try not to speak." Sulu realised that Chekov was in no fit state to talk let alone walk, so he had to make-do by picking his companion completely off the floor.

"Hang on in there," he encouraged, brow creased in concern at Pavel's pasty face, "it'll be alright."

He nearly bumped into Uhura on his way to sick bay. Her eyes darted from him to Chekov and back again, saying nothing. Her face said it all.

"Don't ask," Sulu advised, hoisting Chekov more securely into his arms, "Just think Russians and copious amounts of alcohol and you'll get there."

Uhura's eyebrows climbed steadily up her forehead as Sulu steered his course around her, heading once again to sick bay.

"McCoy is not going to like this." he mumbled to himself, "Not one bit."

Neither Sulu nor Chekov had noted Uhura's somewhat ruffled hair and missing footwear. She considered this as an added bonus.

***

Kirk was bored now. With his first officer somewhere else on the ship (he had no idea where and he wished people would at least tell him where they were going before wandering off) Kirk was seriously lacking in any idea as to what to do with the planet below. The instruments had picked up no signs of intelligent life and no slight sliver of land anywhere, meaning there wasn't even a chance to go outdoor sight-seeing, let alone meet new chicks in some subterranean bar--

"Captain?"

"Yes Ensign?"

"We're being hailed!"

Kirk frowned, his handsome brow furrowing in boyish confusion,

"We are? On screen!"

The female face that proceeded to grace the bridge of the _Enterprise _was one Kirk would never forget. Skin of almost translucent white, hair of a bright vibrant red, eyes large, almond-shaped and the brightest purple – the first face of an Aruthian any of them had ever seen. Kirk stared. She was _hot_. When she spoke, her voice sounded almost like cascading water, multi-layered and musical,

"Welcome to Arutha," she chimed, her message resonating out of every speaker on the ship, "Planet of the Fountain of Youth. You have indeed travelled far, you and your crew must be weary. My name is Izabulla Liratina and on the behalf of my people, I would like to extend an invitation for all of you to come rest with us and restock your supplies. We have been monitoring your ship closely since your arrival, have noted it's trajectory, current condition and crew status. It is clear you are in need of repair parts, which are in our possession, not to mention fuel and moral relaxation. You have indeed come a long way, so please, have you and your crew prepare to be beamed down."

Kirk looked her straight in the eye.

"That's a lot to say in your very opening speech," he said, putting on his sweetest smile, "care to let me put a word in edgeways, red-head?"

She laughed – a very beautiful noise indeed Kirk noted – clearly taking his cheekiness as a positive,

"Now there's a chat-up line I've never heard before." she replied, rolling her eyes.

She winked. Kirk's mouth dropped open, his cheeks reddening,

"The names James Kirk, captain of the starship _Enterprise_." he managed.

"A pleasure Mr. Kirk. Now, about my proposal...?" she continued, raising her elegant eyebrows, "surely you want..._moral_ _relaxation_."

Something told Kirk the form of relaxation she was referring to would be far from moral. Well, that suited him. McCoy looked sideways at his captain, suspicion evident on his face.

"We're all yours!" Kirk exclaimed in a slightly higher voice than was nessecary, his smile broadening.

"Sir, I really would advise--"

"Bones, come on we're explorers. If your going to be stingy, I suggest you stay put, but I for one am heading down there."He nodded pointedly at Izabulla, turning to face her.

"So your under the water I take it?"

"Indeed," she crooned, "our entire city resides beneath the waves and our artificial atmosphere is set to adjust to any visiting life form. We are a people of peace and..." She smiled, showing her brilliantly white teeth, "..._pleasure_."

Kirk clapped his hands together.

"Excellent. Bones, since your so insistent on staying here, you have the bridge while we're gone. Now, where the heck is Spock...?"

***

Spock was currently leaning against a store room wall, looking out over the blue expanse through it's tiny porthole, exhausted. Human emotions were hard enough to deal with, but he could never understand the amount of energy they were able to possess, particularly in certain..._situations_. His communicator whirred.

"_Kirk to Spock, where the hell are you? I've been looking for you everywhere!_"

"Sorry sir, I was temporarily detained."

"_Well, get your vulcan butt to transporter room 3, we're going exploring! Kirk out_."

Spock's elegant brow wrinkled slightly. Exploring? Surely traversing a foreign terrain made only of neutral water and sodium chloride molecules was highly illogical, not to mention just plain stupid. Hmm. 'Plain stupid'. Silently reprimanding his human side, Spock hoped that was a phrase he would never use again, in his head or out.

***

Sulu was really starting to panic now. Chekov had passed out twice and his heartbeat was racing like a charging bull, his eyes rolling every now and then into the back of his head. He wasn't even capable of speech now. Sulu thought the injection was meant to make Chekov better, not _worse_.

To his dismay, he rushed into sick bay to find it empty except for Nurse Chapel.

"Where's McCoy?" Sulu demanded.

"On the bridge, he's--"

But the pilot didn't let her finish. He pounded towards the new destination, Chekov still in his arms , now having difficulty breathing. Sulu fumbled with his communicator in one hand, panting as he ran as fast as he could.

"McCoy! We've got problems sir, it's Chekov, he's having trouble breathing, he can't speak and he's growing weaker by the second, what on earth was in that injection you gave him?"

There was a short agonising pause as McCoy digested this.

"_Only an immunity boost with painkilling properties, nothing serious or high-tech – I double-checked his file, he's not allergic to any of it's ingredients so I don't see why he should be reacting like this._"

Grinding his teeth, Sulu snapped,

"We're on our way to you doc, so you better have some answers when we get to you or they'll be hell to pay. Sulu out."

McCoy didn't even try to reply.

***

"Alright Scotty, where's Sulu?"

"No idea Captain, I thought he was with you!"

At that moment, Spock entered the transporter room, striding in with robotic-like efficiency, heading to stand next to his captain on the transporter deck.

Ignoring him, Kirk frowned, thinking events over. Chekov had left in rather a hurry shortly after arriving on the bridge and Sulu had followed so--

"_McCoy to Kirk, this is urgent!_"

"Kirk receiving, what's up Bones?"

"_I got Chekov here and it ain't pretty sir, there's something up with his digestive tract, I'm not sure what, but it's starting to affect his respiratory and immunity systems and his condition is declining every second. Like idiots they didn't stay put in sick bay, but here they are and it's like nothing I've ever seen Jim, my instruments can't get a fix on it and I hate saying it, but it looks like Chekov doesn't have long!_"

Kirk's eyes widened a little, mouth open slightly. Spock looked at him, no emotion in his face. Kirk replied, flustered,

"Your the doctor McCoy, any ideas what we can do?"

"_Goddamit Jim, I haven't got a clue! Is Spock with you? Any bright ideas from that pointy-eared bastard?_"

Kirk thanked whatever entity was watching over him, talk about timing.

"Spock, any ideas?

"The Aruthian woman mentioned her planet contained a 'Fountain of Youth' whatever that may be." Spock replied with next to no thinking time, "there have been innumerable mentions of such springs in legends across the galaxies so, although it may be an act of blind faith, it may be an idea to take Chekov with us."

Nodding, Kirk barked,

"Bones, did you get that?"

"_Fountain of youth huh? Well, it's worth a try. Scotty, can you beam us into transporter room 3?_"

The Scotsman beamed.

"I can do better than that, I'll transport you and the two laddies here straight to the same location, how many to go?"

"_Two, I'm not going to be much use I hate to say. Take Sulu with you instead._"

"Aye aye sir, energising in 3."

"_Thanks, McCoy out. And Jim?_"

"Yeah?"

"_Good luck._"

"Thanks. Energise."

***

The city was indeed magnificent. Tall columns of what looked like coral held what appeared to be a silvery-translucent bubble around the spiralling buildings. This bubble was holding all the sea water out, encasing the entire city in a glistening shield that wobbled and fluctuated with an eerie grace. Every orifice between the buildings was decked with exotic seashells and even the architecture bore great resemblance to the crustacean homes. So, Kirk thought wonderingly, this is Atlantis. Smiling at his own joke, he noticed that standing not far from their position was a cluster of Aruthians, who were watching them with polite interest. One of them stepped out of the group and glided towards them like she was on silent wheels. Ah. Izabulla.

"Welcome friends," she intoned, spreading her ivory arms in a gesture of greeting, "you have arrived here, in the capital Aruna and I--"

She never finished her greeting, because Sulu cut her off, almost in hysterics,

"Please, we're very glad to be here etcetera etcetera, but my friend here is in desperate need of help, please is there anything you can do? There's apparently something wrong with his digestive thingummy, but our doctor didn't know what to do so I thought that you might, you know..."

Izabulla swept over, placing a delicate hand on Chekov's sweating forehead. She drew back slowly and tapped urgently on a small wristband.

"Iza to infirmary, 3 coming through. Prepare for human contact if you please."

"_Yes ma'am_."

"Stay close to me," she commanded, taking hold of Sulu's elbow, "everything will be fine."

There was a whooshing noise and a bright light and suddenly Kirk realised they were two crewman and one Aruthian down. Another of Iza's kind glided over, smiling at they're baffled expressions.

"Please. Don't worry about your friends, they are in good hands," he promised, "My name is Diza and if you would care to follow me, I will take you around the city. We have many fine attributes that I'm sure you would be interested in..."

***

The infirmary was crisp, clean and directly to the point. It was not unpleasant (an encouraging notion Sulu was pleased to see) and the Aruthians who worked within it moved with precision and great efficiency. Chekov was swiftly transferred to a padded table-top and examined thoroughly by the man who appeared to be in charge. Waving a strange-looking instrument over Chekov's midriff, the surgeon said calmly,

"Your friend appears to have a mutated bacteria in his smaller intestine that is devouring his villi and perforating his gut wall, releasing a toxin that is paralysing his lymphatic nodes, thus repressing his immune system. They are spreading fast up his body towards his lungs, it will take a special enzyme-catalysed surgery procedure to kill or remove them. Do I have your permission to perform said surgery?"

Sulu had barely understood a word of that, but it sounded intelligent enough. Anything to help Pavel.

"By all means, please."

With a curt nod, the Aruthian barked instructions at his team in his native language, pointing at several pieces of equipment and sweeping around the room like a giant white bat. It was at this moment that Sulu was ushered outside with the comforting words,

"We shall keep you informed."

***

So far the entire city appeared to be completely empty, which Spock made a mental note of under the tab 'unusual observations'. There was barely a sound except for what appeared to be operatic music playing quietly over some invisible speakers, hauntingly echoing around the silent halls. Their footsteps were incredibly loud in the intense quiet, but Diza seemed unperturbed by this and continued, occasionally pointing out interesting buildings and statuettes of deities that were all over the place like scattered chess pieces. Spock looked past Diza, spying an enormous marble door up ahead, embedded in a wall of white coral that stretched right up to the pinnacle of the shield bubble.

"Where does that lead?" he inquired politely.

"You will soon see my friends," Diza replied, smiling, "for you have only seen half the city. This is the Silent District, reserved for priests of the Order and the aristocracy of the crown. However, ever since the Sensual Revolution, there have been none." Beaming, he continued,

"You must understand we weren't always a people of pleasure and enjoyment like we are now. Before we were a violent race of warriors that once owned this entire solar system through conquest, but an Aruthian named Filodown led us in a revolt of the senses, resulting in victory."

There was a moments pause as the party tried to understand this.

"If you wouldn't mind," Spock inquired eventually, "what exactly do you mean by 'revolution of the senses?'"

Diza stopped, turning to face them.

"You are a vulcan are you not?"

Spock was stunned. Kirk started in surprise.

"You know of the vulcan race?" Spock said, trying hard not to sound too emotional as he remembered that they weren't much of a race anymore, rather a smattering.

"Of course," Diza replied smoothly, "It may not seem it, but Aruthians and Vulcans share a common ancestry, much like you and the Romulants. The only difference is, is that we are only linked distantly through an experiment once performed by the vulcan Uritan in the late 21th century, some 500 years ago..."

If Spock's eyes could widen anymore, they would have done. Uritan. THE Uritan. The first vulcan to suggest that an army should be cloned to extend the vulcan empire 'in the name of science' so as to study the biodiversity of the universe more closely. His plan had been to conquer and acquire 'test subjects' from each race for experimentation, raising considerable ethical debate amongst the members of the vulcan high court. But while Spock (after studying the subject at the age of 12) was disgusted by it, his opinion had been of a very small minority and Uritan had almost been given the go ahead, having received a high commendation for his work and popularity in the vulcan capital. Almost. One tiny rebel group, Spock's great great great grandfather among them, had infiltrated the laboratory, stealing the equipment and sabotaging the plan, causing alarm and havoc in a normally non-feeling environment. A long story short, the new creatures growing in the lab had been placed in a capsule and propelled into the black hole of a collapsing star, hoping never to be seen again. And here, 500 years later, Spock himself was confronting Uritan's creations, in a city built of limestone and shells, surrounded by technology that was considerably more advanced than there own. The question here, was 'how'? As if reading his thoughts, Diza continued,

"Ah, you do know of him. Well, because we were created to be emotionless and violent, we were for over 150 years after landing here. The race that originally lived here was peaceful and to survive and evolve, my ancestors had to procreate somehow, so as to continue conquering this solar system. So they used the inhabitants as a way of inducing hybrid vigour, combining our characteristics and producing a better, more efficient, race. However, unknown to my ancestors, the natives here were the complete opposite to us emotionally, choosing to react to feelings and always trying to create peace. Thus, inevitably, some of us grew apart to the superiors of our new empire, encouraging the use of feeling and promoting co-existence with our surrounding neighbours. In short, we overthrew the war-like monarchy, made a new government and are now the main tourist attraction in this entire galaxy." He bowed elaborately, proud of his race's achievements. Spock's thoughts were conflicting. On the one hand they had murdered a peaceful race to benefit their own, had conquered a solar system and manipulated their new empire to conquer others, but on the other hand they had overcome their superiors and fought for the right to feel and were now benefiting that which they had almost destroyed. Diza was watching Spock with interest.

"Just like vulcans, we strove not to feel," he said quietly, "but we realised that to feel is to live. Otherwise we are merely existing."

***

Sulu had noticed that everyone he'd seen so far (aside from his own crew members) had red hair and white, translucent skin, which made the following encounter rather confusing for him. As he had been waiting outside the infirmary, someone..._different_ had arrived, somewhat unceremoniously. A young woman of about 18 had skidded around the corner, nearly crashed into a waste disposal unit and had performed an Olympic-style leap over Sulu's head, but that wasn't the odd thing. The odd thing was that her hair was brown. Not red, _brown_. Her frame had been a little more..er..'rounded' than the other Aruthians, but she still possessed the pale skin and large eyes that made it clear to Sulu that she wasn't human either.

"Sorrypardonmecomingthrough!" She'd yelled as she flew over him, medic's uniform flying behind her, "I'm late! Very late!"

She had let her own momentum carry her into the double doors, using it to disappear spectacularly into the operating theatre.

Sulu had been left, mouth open, to watch what appeared to be her purse slide across the floor to rest at his feet. He opened it up. _Karina Peral - _it read - _ID 1347890, Species: Aruthian/human_. Ah, now the hair made sense. A half human...but how...?

***

"We will now be entering the life and soul part of the city," exclaimed Diza, looking excited, "I hope you enjoy your stay with us and please, feel free to browse at your leisure!"

Kirk and Spock watched as he pressed a button. The two huge doors began to open.

***

"Your late."

"Yes sir, sorry sir."

"Don't be late again Miss Peral."

"I won't sir. Sorry again sir."

"Right then Miss Peral, I want you to sort out this young man's sheeting and then I want you stay by him, got that? You're partly similar to him after all. You can be in charge of..." he searched for the right words, "...bedside manner."

She rolled her eyes, but strode quickly towards the operating table, her long brown her floating behind her. Crouching down by Chekov's head, she began fussing with the sheets, straightening them out and adjusting them for her patient's comfort. It was only then that she looked at him directly for the first time. All the professional mannerisms of an Aruthian medic suddenly dissipated to be replaced by a surging crowd of emotions, rushing into her eyes like a powerful river, enveloping her completely. The surgeon noticed her sudden lack of movement.

"Miss Peral?"

She still didn't move.

"Peral!" he snapped. When that didn't work, he barked in a harsh voice,

"Citizen 1347890! Attention please!"

She abruptly snapped up to standing, heels together, one arm raised in salute, replying automatically,

"Citizen 1347890 reading for duty sir!"

The surgeon glared at her for a moment, coldly aware of his misuse of the old military custom all Aruthians knew. He watched as slowly, Karina managed to force her emotions under control. She looked at her feet, cheeks red.

"Forgive me sir." she whispered.

The surgeon glared, unfeeling.

"1347890, this is no time to let your roots detain you. Bedside manner. Now."

"Sir." She nodded crisply, returning to her duty with frightened energy.

The surgeon turned to his subordinate.

"Ginu, fetch the...water."

***

Informed my arse, Sulu thought, grinding his teeth irritably. He'd been sitting here for over half an hour and nobody had told him anything. Informed indeed. Sulu paced like he had never paced before. He was now completely familiar with every single tile of the white enamel flooring, every speck, every crack. He wanted to think positively, but what if...? He shuddered, gulping profusely. What if Chekov..._died_? What would he tell Kirk and the others? How could he face going home to tell Chekov's own mother, who he knew so well, that her only son was 'killed in action'? He couldn't do it, no, he couldn't! There was no way he would be able t-- the door suddenly swung open and a young nurse stepped through with precise ease. She caught Sulu's expression and chuckled,

"Worried were you?" she asked, enjoying the relief that washed over the young Starfleet officer's face at these actions, "You can relax Mr. Sulu, the operation was a complete success, he's going to be fine. He just needs rest and a lot of water to reboot his system," the nurse smiled, putting a hand comfortingly on Sulu's shoulder, "he should be up and about in about 2 days."

The following grin was so broad, it reminded the nurse of a spreading ray of sunshine. Sulu grabbed her hand, shaking it vigorously,

"Thank you so much ma'am, you are a star! Oh thank you thank you thank you!" He energetically punched his com-link,

"Sulu to Kirk, Spock, McCoy...oh heck with it, Sulu to the whole crew of the _Enterprise,_ operation Chekov a complete success, he's now on route to a recovery!"

After a chorus of returning cheers and 'that's great news' from various crew members, the nurse began to look more serious.

"Mr Sulu, I ask that you leave him in our hands completely until at least tomorrow night. No visitors, his rest cannot be disturbed otherwise you will have to remain longer here for his recovery. Do you understand?"

Although saddened by this, Sulu thought it best to agree.

"No problem sir. Thanks again to you and your team, we owe you a debt of gratitude!"

The nursed bowed gracefully.

"It has been an honour."

Just after Sulu had left, the surgeon swept from his post in the laboratory to the theatre, to see Karina watching Chekov closely.

"And what do you think your doing?" he inquired with a dangerous undertone. Karina didn't even look up to reply. Something about her tense position radiated displeasure he noted.

"My job." She said simply, taking Chekov's limp hand in her own, staring at the young Russian's face as if she could swallow it up with her gaze "after all, bedside manner does require some form of _feeling_, don't you agree?"

She turned, looking at the surgeon directly. Her eyes glowed neon blue as they stared, standing out in the darkness of the theatre like headlamps.

"I said, don't you agree?"

The surgeon exited, a little too swiftly.

***

The first thing Pavel Chekov saw was a blurry shape. It looked like an skin coloured oval with a brown rim, reminding him of those eggs he used to paint as a child with the cress growing out the top...but eggs don't make weird noises...his vision began to get clearer and as he watched, the oval sharpened into what he recognised as a face, but it was unlike one he'd seen before – the eyes were a deep iron-blue and framed by long, mousy-brown hair that was caught in a gentle breeze from the air-con. She appeared to be surrounded by an aura of white light, making him blink rapidly several times, trying to make out where he was...it certainly wasn't the ship's sick bay, so where...? Something soothingly cool was placed on his brow and the weird noise he'd been hearing became identifiable, as his muffled ears realised that the girl in front of him was in fact talking to him.

"...but don't worry your perfectly safe." she finished.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the girl put a soft finger to his lips and intoned quietly,

"Try not to talk, your still weak. Do your best to go back to sleep, you'll feel better for it."

He felt her hand rest lightly on his face and an immense sense of calm washed over him as he exhaled. He allowed the coolness of the flannel and the comfort of her hand lull him gently, as the dark envelope of exhaustion rose in his mind. The last thing he remembered thinking was whether angels really did exist...

***

Kirk had never seen so many people before! The streets bustled with the frantic buzz of activity and voices of every pitch and timbre sounded through the cavernous chambers, shouting out the names of their respected wares with various degrees of enthusiasm; there were cloths of all colours and shades hanging in great banners across the roads, food of every shape, taste and smell, all thrown together in a complete bombardment of the senses. Even Spock was overwhelmed...but only to the point of wrinkling his elegant nose at the smell, which seemed to be clinging to his pristine uniform. Kirk's eyes were wide with wonder, drinking in the atmosphere – so many races, some so beyond humanoid in shape that they were meeting it from the other end.

"Spock," he whispered excitedly, nudging his companion hard in the ribs, making him flinch, "check this _out_!"

"Your use of human slang insinuates that you are rather excited captain."

Kirk wasn't listening.

"The babes!" he cried, flinging his arms wide, "think of the bab-"

"Captain I suggest that, at least for the time being, that you restrain yourself." Spock cut in, watching Diza's face curiously. Naturally, Kirk still managed to ignore him and continued to wink roguishly at several people as they walked by, puffing his chest out like some form of proud pigeon.

Spock strode up to his senior officer, leaning over him and whispering in his ear just loud enough to be threatening,

"Jim, not meaning to be rude but, as they say on your planet, 'zip your lip'."

Kirk stopped abruptly and turned again to their guide, who was waiting behind them with a strange look on his face. Was it...glee? No, there was something else to the smile, something Kirk (and Spock to, he realised) found faintly disturbing...

***

Karina busied herself with boiling the rather primitive-looking kettle in the corner of the infirmary, her eyes focused on the strange thing called a 'tea-bag' she'd heard so much about from the now considerably animated Chekov. He was sitting up in bed, reading an e-book entitled 'Arutha – A Visitor's Guide', his wide blue eyes drinking in the various vividly-coloured pictures with child-like wonder. Karina turned to face her patient, a steaming cup of tea in her pale hand and a plate of cookies in the other, to see Chekov's face change comically quickly from awe to distinctly disturbed.

"Found the section on our prestigious red-light district?" She asked, trying not to laugh. Pavel pushed the off button so quickly the e-book actually made a loud click as it went blank.

"I'll take that as a yes," Karina finished, putting her light load onto the bed-side table, "I'm afraid you'll have to get used to that. Unfortunately it's more popular to tourists than the souvenir market."

Chekov giggled nervously, before leaping on the cookies with extra vigour. Smiling, Karina sat down on the stool next to the bed, watching as the crumbs and chocolate chips were showered onto the sheets. Her eyes wandered to Pavel's face, taking in the sky-blue irises and the locks of curly brown hair that adorned his young head. She shook her own in wonder. Pavel noticed her gaze.

"What?" he asked in a muffled voice.

"Oh, nothing," Karina replied, fidgeting with a corner of the sheets. She tried to concentrate on her fingers, but she suddenly felt a hand lifting her chin and found herself looking into the eyes that so fascinated her.

"Come on," Pavel encouraged softly, "you can tell me."

She opened and closed her mouth several times before replying, but her thoughts burst from her like a river breaking it's banks,

"It's just that your like me!" she exclaimed, taking hold of his hand, "I'm so different from others of my kind – my hair colour, my blue eyes, the fact that I'm not desired at all by any of the Pleasure Guilds because I am different, but you...! You are human yes?"

Chekov, a little taken aback by this outburst, nodded frantically.

"Exactly!" she cried, "I am a half breed, a part Aruthian and I hate it! When I go out I am mistaken for a tourist – do you know how degrading that is? I want to take care of people, like the others do, to be hospitable and to be a guide to our visitors, but the Guilds said no I was too different! That's why I came her to the infirmary," she sunk to the floor, resting her head on the bedside, "here I do not have to be seen or be ashamed and I can still help, but I cannot go out. I am not allowed to go out."

Pavel noticed with alarm that she was starting to cry and shake. He gripped her hand tighter, leaning over to her.

"Listen very closely," he whispered, "on my ship, we may have space for an extra medical azzistant,

my ceptain, he iz very understanding, I can inqwire if you wish?"

She raised her tear-streaked face to him.

"Really? You mean get off this damn planet? For good?"

"Yes!" Chekov exclaimed, nodding, "we go viseet the stars! You would see worlds you've never seen before! And you would not have to 'ide ever again!"

The hope and gratefulness that welled up in his new friend's eyes was enough to make him become a little tearful too.

***

"Is there a problem?" Spock inquired to Diza. That smile was, well, not right, not right at all. Diza turned to him, all traces of disturbing nature gone,

"No! Of course not," he chuckled, "just glad we found out how to please your Captain here."

He wondered away through the stalls, beckoning them to follow, parting the crowd with a wave of his other pale hand. Kirk and Spock exchanged glances, then proceeded with caution. You couldn't be too careful.

---


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2! Hope your enjoying this...

***

The surgeon held the flask to the light, watching the pale green filter through onto his hands. Donning his gloves, he picked out a test tube from the rack labelled 'AR' and, with death-defying precision, took a sample from the flask. He bared his teeth in a grimace of triumph as he poured this into his needle, careful not to spill a single drop.

***

Diza was acting very strangely indeed Spock decided, enough again to be filed under 'unusual observations'. This inner folder was growing disconcertingly large of late, which unnerved him. Kirk was fidgety, but always looked around as they passed females of numerous species, grinning to himself. Ahead, Spock could see a group of about six Aruthians, all wearing long, spacious robes with curious slits in the material. Spock raised an eyebrow. Fishy.

***

Karina was carrying the dirty plates from Chekov's lunch to the kitchen units, when she passed by the operating room and noticed a strange light from within. Peering around the door, she saw the surgeon testing a needle, watching the fine liquid spray lightly into a small tray. She noted the 'AR' tagged instruments. Acid Resistant? As she watched, the metal tray hissed and spat as it melted. Melted? That liquid was indeed acid! Why was the surgeon needling acid? And what for?

***

Iza led the party waiting for the captain and first command and headed straight for Kirk. Spock could almost feel the hormones emanating off her and could see his leader falling under her spell as she stroked his chin. Diza gestured and spoke to Kirk,

"Iza has long waited to show you our other, err, _entertainments_."

"This I believe would not be wise," Spock tried to interject, but Jim was too far gone. His mouth was open and he was following Iza like a loved-up zombie. Feeling a small twinge of urgency now, the _Enterprise_'s first officer grabbed his captain's shoulder.

"Jim," he whispered harshly, "I am not comfortable at all. Please, we should head back to the ship."

But even as he spoke, Diza was pulling something out from under his cloak.

***

Hiding the newly filled needle under his long white robe, the surgeon turned towards the door. Sensing danger, Karina ran silently back to Pavel's room, closing the entrance as swiftly as she dared, moving to stand by her patient's bed. The door opened with a hiss.

"Karina, I need to give our patient a final immunity boost. While I do this, you wouldn't mind trying to find his friend? Mr Sulu?"

His voice was unnervingly jovial and light-hearted, a flaw in his normal behaviour and unknown to him, Karina knew well enough what was in that so-called immunity boost.

***

Sulu noticed that there were considerably more Aruthians around than before, all wearing a similar garb: a set of white, billowing robes with curiously shaped slits on all sides. Maybe for some kind of ceremony? They were subtly stationed in a large circle, enclosing not only a few groups of tourists but mainly and more noticeably, his captain and first officer who were only about a hundred yards away. This worried him.

***

"I'd prefer to stay here sir, if you don't mind. My patient is not used to your kind."

Chekov pulled at her gown, about to protest, but Karina shushed him.

"Our kind, Miss Peral," the surgeon said sternly, "our kind. And I gave you an order, not a suggestion."

"Sorry sir." Karina replied shortly, standing her ground.

"Move." the surgeon hissed, his eyes starting to glow an angry violet. He pulled out the needle.

Spock saw the phaser in Diza's hand and lunged for it. Pulling the Aruthian's arm with all his force over his shoulder, he threw his opponent down onto the marble floor with a crack. People screamed and started to flee for the doors. That was when Spock noticed the other similarly dressed Aruthian's beginning to close in. He and Jim were like fish in a barrel and the Aruthian's happened to have more guns.

The needle flashed with great speed in the lamplight, arching down as the surgeon made to stab Pavel in his left arm, his teeth bared in a furious snarl. Chekov tried to pull himself away, but got tangled in the clinging sheets and was only saved when Karina threw herself between them, holding the surgeon by his wrists, wrestling him away from the bed with all her strength. She was fighting a losing battle, but managed to slip her leg under the surgeon's own, upending him onto the floor, kicking the offending needle out of the way as hard as she could. Finally free, Chekov bounded over to his carer, brandishing a metal lamp stand from his corner light and growling fiercely. As the surgeon made to stand, he whacked him over the head with enough force to break a table, his young muscles bulging slightly, eyes wide.

"No-won touches Karina!" he roared, all boyishness gone from the 17-year old face, "she sawe me, now I sawe her!"

But the surgeon's eyes still glowed.

***

"Surrounded." Spock hissed to himself, setting his phaser to kill. He turned to find, unsurprisingly, that Kirk was being held in Iza's iron grip, his own hand weapon held to his head.

"Why?" he asked simply, turning to the floored Diza, "_why_? I thought you considered yourselves peaceful."

Diza spat blood and rose with difficulty.

"Oh yes, to unsuspecting tourists we are amiable and kind-spirited." he spat, "but we have watched Earth, oh we have watched Earth with interest. Such spirit, such _fight_."

His eyes began to glow, the violet light spilling onto the marble. Spock was reminded of Diza's earlier talk of the Aruthian's conquering lifestyle and their blood-thirstiness and knew too well how this was going to end.

"What you don't understand," Diza continued, "is that some of us preferred the old ways. The trill of the kill, the power we had! You vulcans were right to discard us, but how we resented it, oh how we resented you!"

Spock tried to back away as Diza began to slowly advance, that eerie light reflecting off his white robe.

"And now we, the Faithful, have learned that the last of our cruel ancestors (he spat again) reside on Earth! We shall destroy them and with them, you!"

He raised a hand and, as Spock watched, his body began to change.

"Behold! The Aruthian true form!"

***

Pavel was about to hit the surgeon again, when his arm was grabbed viciously from below and he was yanked down to the floor with surprising force. The surgeon roared like a beast and sprang upright, whirling to face Karina as she backed against the wall in terror. Her eyes darted to Chekov, who struggled to rise in his still weak state, She must protect him. He was her patient! She had one job on this lousy planet and she was going to do it no matter what! Something was happening to the surgeon as he whispered in a low voice,

"It is time. The Faithful have waited oh so long, now we rise!"

***

Armour plating appeared to be sprouting from inside Diza's body; great, thick, shining white plates adorned with a spiky, red motif, like war paint. His ears were stretched outward into long, thin triangles and his hair seemed to lose all sense of gravity, floating around his head as if underwater. Now Spock understood the need for slits in his attire. The chest plating clacked across the middle of his broadening frame with a sound like steel shutters, both sides meeting in the centre to form a perfect line from chin to midriff. His shoulders seemed to double in size; these were also adorned with huge shoulder cups of the same bone-quality material, clearly built to withstand the heaviest blow. The armour was all over him; his torso, arms, legs, back and even a little on his face, covering the cheekbones, forehead and chin, all of it streaked red, giving the impression of stained blood and war. The most impressive things though were the spikes: three adorned his brow, the centre one as sharp and long as a sabre, glinting violet in the fierce light from his eyes. Three were also present on each shoulder and foot, decreasing in size towards the thick arms and the toes, curved, cruel and obviously designed to impale any attacker, whether from land or sky and, on each of the great fists, were four incredible claws jutting out from his knuckle bones, each the width of Spock's arm. He stood there in all his glory. Eyes flashing, he roared,

"See! This is what we are! The greatest war machines in the universes creation! This plating is a composition of bone, steel and the strongest materials known to vulcan-kind, impenetrable to phaser blasts, cannon fire and any blade or missile: six of us can conquer a planet in the space of three days, so don't think your little toys will be of any use."

A wicked, fanged grin split the remaining skin under the facial plating as he bowed mockingly.

"Courtesy of your own kind," he laughed, "creating their own destruction!"

Spock narrowed his eyes. He remained perfectly calm without difficulty.

"So why have you not, as a planet, used this before?"

Iza snorted from where she and Kirk were standing.

"Because only those truly connected with violence and anger can transform correctly. Many of us have long lost the ability because of our ancestors inter-breeding." She spat at the floor at this statement, glowering and pushing the gun harder into her hostage's cranium. Kirk gulped theatrically, caught Spock's eye...and winked. Spock blinked once and returned his gaze to his captors.

Others were transforming now, about five or six, all congregating around Diza. Eyes of varying tones of neon purple stared at Spock, daring him to attack. That was when Kirk moved: grabbing hold of Iza's arm, he hoisted her onto his shoulders, expertly batting his gun out of her hand. Their attention momentarily caught, the gathering of Aruthians whirled to the valiant captain, roaring as he proceeded to run off with her. Spock had to admire the man. Stupid yes, but he had guts. Taking advantage of the lack of eyes trained on him, he pelted after Kirk, aware that they were being chased only seconds later.

"Hurry!" he shouted, catching up with his officer. From her position, Iza kicked and squealed, flailing about like a caught fish. Spock swung his hand around, grasping her frame in the Vulcan Neck Pinch, satisfied as she proceeded to go completely limp.

"Thanks Spock!" Kirk yelled as they ran, "now, head for the Silent District!"

***

The towering beast stood before the two youngsters in the infirmary, eyes bright, fangs gleaming in the light of the instruments.

"A true form," Karina breathed fearfully, "the most powerful soldier in the universe."

Chekov's already large eyes widened in horror.

"What's zat supposed to mean?" he choked.

"That armour is impossible to break, those claws would rip you apart like tissue paper and if he lands on you you'd be too dead to notice." Karina squeaked.

Pavel looked down at his lamp stand, suddenly willing it to be a large bomb to no avail. Karina was rooted to the spot. She'd never seen a true form before, she thought they'd long gone with the planet's new lifestyle, but no obviously not. The valuable seconds suddenly ceased to tick. The surgeon lunged.

***

Sulu stared in horror at this turn of events, mouth agape as he took in the furious beast facing Spock. How the vulcan was managing to remain so calm was anyone's guess, but it was obvious they needed help. He could draw them away by shooting one of the nearby power cells, but that would knock out the power for a large part of the city and these Aruthians were obviously some sort of cult, not representing their people as a whole. It would be unfair to the others, not to mention temporarily stopping the flow of their economy. He racked his brain, there must be something...then he saw his commanding officers running off with a thrashing hostage. If the circumstances were different, he would have laughed out loud at the comical sight, but now was not the time for this. Getting up from his current position, he headed off after them, dodging tourists and sticking to the shadows.

***

Chekov pushed Karina aside with all his strength and took the full weight of the falling surgeon with gritted teeth. There was a terrible crunch as the great breastplates connected with teenage ribs and the pair were flung over and over, crashing into machinery as they went. Sparks flew in every direction, as did syringes and pieces of equipment, causing the shocked Karina to abruptly gain full movement of her body and scrabble behind the lead x-ray wall. Amid the clattering of flying hyposprays and the smashing of falling test tubes, there was loud yells and cries of pain. Pavel. Karina screeched with rage as she pulled herself up from behind the wall.

Coward, she cried at herself, utter coward that's all I am! But Chekov needed her help and she was going to give all she had.

Pavel and the surgeon were in a tangle at the other end of the bay, the smaller of the two trying desperately to get out of the mess of wires despite heavy injuries. As Karina watched, he gave a small choke of pain and his body suddenly went slack, hanging over the broken scanner like a rag doll. The great claws of the battle-enraged monster crashed into the machine next to him, squashing the metal like a bowl of grapes and cutting through the scanner like a knife through butter. Karina searched around desperately for a weapon, but all she could see that wasn't buried or burning was the lamp stand, still rolling where it had been flung from it's owners hands. As the surgeon watched, she proceeded to pick this up and pelt towards him, teeth bared and a strange blue light shining in her fierce eyes. She brandished the lamp stand, swinging it above her head to deal him a blow that would probably knock out a small rabbit, but definitely not a fully transformed war Aruthian. He laughed, a sickening sound like screeching tyres, pulling himself out of the mess around him to face her head on. He lowered his brow spikes, his eyes glinting maliciously as she approached, ready to run her through. Karina saw him ducking to her level and grinned, throwing the lamp stand: it smacked into the middle spike, the force just enough to tilt his head upward to face her. She drew what she had been hiding in her right hand and, bellowing a war cry that would have broken glass, proceeded to squirt the needle full of acid into the great violet eyes.

***

The pair of starfleet officers and their load crashed through the great doors, changing the district's name abruptly as they skidded inside. They were pursued by shouts and commotion as the Aruthians tried to plough through the mass of tourists outside. Spock was first to act: with lightening speed he tapped at the door board, making the doors hiss shut and a series of load clunks to ensue.

"Emergency lock down," he explained to Kirk as he was laying down his burden on the marble slabs, "should keep them out for a little while, but we haven't much time. What exactly are you planning to do with her?"

"She's their Princess," Kirk replied smugly, "they won't want her dead, we can hold her hostage."

In theory it was a good plan Spock decided, but in practicality it would be no use at all.

"May I remind you these are war beings?" he interjected, "she will happily die for her cause believe me and the others won't try to dissuade her."

Frowning, Kirk looked down at his captive, then fumbled with his communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise, Scotty you there?"

Silence. The district had returned to it's former eerie self, the operatic voices wailing very quietly in the gloom, giving the impression of aimless ghosts haunting the shell-adorned buildings. Shivering slightly (not from cold), Kirk fiddled with the circuit boards, adjusting this, tweaking that to no avail. All he got was static.

***

From the relative safety of a temple rooftop, Sulu watched his officers far below, as he too tried his communicator. His result, although the same, was slightly more heartening though - the static juddered and jerked and sometimes Sulu could swear he heard a Scottish twang amid the noise. If only he could get higher up...it was then that the great doors exploded. Shards of metal and great chunks of steel flew everywhere, crashing into buildings sending up a great cloud of billowing, choking dust and plaster. Brick rained down from above, prompting Sulu to duck underneath a statuette, hoping that the reared front legs of the horse would protect him from falling debris. As he watched, the five Aruthians strode through the mess, rock bouncing off their fearsome armour. Shooting at them would be like throwing peas at an old WWII tank, Sulu decided. Damn, it would have to be plan B.

***

There was a scream that made the room shake as the surgeon clutched at his eyes, scratching at them with his great armoured talons. More screeching as blood splattered across the floor, the neon light gone from the now blackened pits, steam rising between the claws and scrabbling fingers. Karina turned away, impossibly trying to ignore the roars of pain that tugged at her soul like the metal hooks on a fishing line, concentrating instead on rushing to Pavel and getting him out of the tangled machine. He groaned softly as she attempted to pull away the scanner, but it was lodged firmly amongst the mass of wires, having been crumpled by the monster's iron grip. This wasn't fair! She needed help and he had no strength left - she knew for certain that if she were to leave him too long, he would die and she was not having that! She clutched at her skull, bellowing with angry frustration. Why, why, WHY? As she pulled her hands away, she barely noticed the blue glow that seemed to suddenly light the room, instead concentrating on trying again. She would save him, she would! She wrapped her fingers around the metal plates of the medical scanner, bunching what muscle she had to their limits. Come on! Her teeth were fiercely gritted, eyes now scrunched up as she heaved again - amid her concentration she felt a sudden surge of energy and her grip on the scanner seemed to become a lot stronger as she tugged and tugged as hard as she could. Then, with a screech and a groan, the metal structure began to shift, slowly at first then more easily as it was navigated away from the wires. With a fresh burst of hope, Karina yanked again, eyes open now to aid transport. Nearly there! Suddenly, with a force that threw her backwards across the floor, the huge machine sprang out of the grip of the wires, sparks flying as they were ripped apart. Picking herself up off the floor, Karina then rushed to her charge, reaching out to pick him up from his crumpled position. With ease that defied her build, she whisked him up and as she passed the writhing surgeon, stabbed down in mercy with a huge claw.

---


End file.
